


Have [Expletive] Fun (for Once in Your Life)!

by Beewachan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Lots of pop culture references bc I wasn’t being mindful of setting, M/M, Not rly supposed to be chaptered but I thought an 11k word one shot was too much lol, Prom, The ennofuta is v minor, and every other coming of age film or tvshow I binge watched, au where they go to high school together ig, inspired by 10things I hate about you, osashira is the main ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/pseuds/Beewachan
Summary: Kenjirou and Osamu work together to get Atsumu a prom date, and being so caught up in the process, Kenjirou forgets to get himself a prom date.





	1. “Combat Boots and Angry at the World” Buddies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crocustongues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocustongues/gifts).



> I know we’re in a mutual agreement of hate, but I can’t write an osashira without gifting it to you lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if you guys are familiar with prom; it’s just what we call an end-of-the-year formal in the USA and parts of Canada 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy

“Can you, I don’t know, maybe fuck off?” Kenjirou finally stops walking, leaving Osamu, who happened to be mid-run, crashing into him.

He recovers in a timely manner. “No, I can’t, actually. Your friend is upset, and yeah, he’s annoying as fuck, but that doesn’t mean you get to just ignore him, pretend like you didn’t get into a fight over a goddamned _prom theme_ , and act like he hasn’t been sulking about it for the past five days.”

“He’s not my friend, and following people home after class is disturbingly stalker-like. Can you please walk in the other direction now?”

“No, you’re coming to my home, and you’re coming to see my brother because I’m tired of watching him act like a bitch over decorations when he could be acting like a bitch over getting rejected by that girl he’s been planning to ask to prom for an entire two years.”

Kenjirou turns around and raises an eyebrow in both annoyance and disbelief. “Atsumu doesn’t plan things ahead when it comes to girls; he never even talks to them after a second date.”

“Whatever. You can ask him about it if you don’t believe me.” Osamu grabs Kenjirou by his arm and begins pulling him along in the other direction, like Kenjirou requested.

“Let go of me!” Kenjirou tries to free himself, but Osamu’s grip is tight.

“Can you not make a scene when ten kids from our school are walking by and looking at me like I’m the antichrist?”

“Maybe kids always look at you like you’re the antichrist.”

“Maybe you should stop talking until we get to Atsumu.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? He isn’t my friend, and I have no reason to apologize to him.”

“You guys have been hanging out since third grade. I mean, I can’t understand why you’d do that since Atsumu is… himself, but if you’ve done it this long, there must be a good reason for it. Thus, you must be friends.”

“Shut up.”

“Unless he’s blackmailing you?”

“I’ll apologize to him,” Kenjirou says quietly and quickly before continuing with, “would you let me go already?”

“If I do, you’ll take off, so no, I won’t.”

“You have serious trust issues,” Kenjirou glares.

No answer. If possible, it annoys Kenjirou more.

“So you’re just going to hold me hostage?”

Again, no answer.

“Have you suddenly gone mute, Osamu?”

“Don’t call me by my name; we aren’t friends.”

That’s no surprise. Osamu was just sort of a body that came into Kenjirou’s field of vision occasionally when he was at Atsumu’s house. Atsumu barely acknowledged him, when Kenjirou was there at least, so Kenjirou did the same. In fact, today, they’ve said more words to each other in the past two minutes alone than over the past ten years.

“What would you like me to call you?”

“Nothing because we won’t have to talk anymore after you make up with Atsumu.”

Kenjirou hopes he’s right.

“What exactly do you want me to say to Atsumu?”

“Figure it out.”

It’s a painfully long eight and a half minutes of Osamu’s fingers wrapped tightly around Kenjirou’s forearm. He wishes they were long because he’s socially inept, but they were long because Osamu’s antisocial, and there’s a big difference.

Alas, Kenjirou is shoved into the Miya household and subsequently Atsumu’s room. “Begone, you filthy shrek-lover,” Atsumu pouts a soon as he sees a flash of the diagonal bangs.

“Look, I’m sorry the prom committee as a whole thinks that shrek is more fun than frozen.”

“I was really looking forward to dressing up as a princess.”

“You still can! Fiona is a real princess, you know,” Kenjirou speaks with an unusual amount of inflection.

Atsumu huffs, and he speaks to Kenjirou like they weren’t in a fight since last Wednesday. “Well, this blows, my prince rejected me because she doesn’t want to be an ogre, so now, I have to find a new one.”

“Why don’t you be her ogre?”

“Are you calling me ugly?” He raises an offended eyebrow.

“No, I’m sure we can find you a new ogre.”

“Alright, whatever. Who are you going with?”

“Nobody. I was just going to volunteer.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re in SGA. You can’t just not go with anybody, and this is your last prom. Ever.”

“I don’t like anybody, and I’m pretty sure everybody is either scared of me or hates me, or both, except Akaashi, but he’s… him, and he scares me.”

“You’re so lame, dude.”

“I’m lame?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

With a scoff, Kenjirou takes a pillow off of Osamu’s bunk and throws it at Atsumu. Atsumu retaliates with two pillows, and one thing leads to another, heavy panting and all, and Atsumu’s pinned down Kenjirou.

It’s only two moments later of uncomfortably close gazing into each other’s eyes when Osamu barges in.

“Not what I meant when I said make up,” Osamu’s words are overtaken by Kenjirou pushing Atsumu away and the sound of the both of them suggesting that nothing happened, and Osamu saw absolutely nothing.

“I should go,” Kenjirou straightens his tie and gets off of the bed, hurrying out of the room.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

Kenjirou slams his locker shut. He turns only to see Osamu, retrieving some books from his own, but Osamu doesn’t make eye contact.

“Ask already,” Kenjirou dares with a steel glare.

“Don’t fuck in the room I sleep in.”

“We aren’t… it’s not… I don’t like him like that,” Kenjirou sputters.

Still not sparing Kenjirou a glance, Osamu shuts his locker, aggressively, and begins to take his leave.

“Wait!” Kenjirou grabs Osamu by his bag strap.

“I thought there was no more talking after yesterday,” Osamu says, voice low and only mildly irritated.

“Well, you better get used to it because you have to help me find Atsumu a date.”

Osamu’s stops in his tracks, combat boots firmly grounded. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who wanted me to make up with him, and since you’re the reason we’re friends again, you have to help me.”

“What makes you think I know somebody who wants to be an ogre for an overly-preppy, demented compulsive liar?”

“You do know somebody, but he’s a guy, and I don’t know if your brother swings that way.”

“Are you referring to yourself in the third person?” Osamu’s eyebrows draw together in both confusion and disgust.

“No, I meant Akaashi.”

“He doesn’t like psychopaths,” Osamu says, and Kenjirou wants to ask who he’s talking about, but he saves the thought for himself.

“Well, you guys have the same DNA, and Akaashi likes hanging out with you enough, so why don’t you ask?”

“Why don’t you?”

“I can’t tell him to ask someone out when I don’t know if he’ll get rejected or not, idiot,” Kenjirou rolls his eyes.

“So I can?”

“Yeah, you guys are, like, ‘combat boot and angry at the world’ buddies.”

“I won’t help, and don’t talk to me in public anymore. People might start associating us with each other.” Osamu glances around, leaving without saying goodbye.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

Osamu’s sitting in the quad, chomping on a burger with a frown, Akaashi Keiji beside him, when Atsumu dares walk by.

He has an unusual urge to throw something at his brother, like a bread roll from Keiji’s tray, but he suppresses it because Keiji’s here, and Keiji might actually like Atsumu, according to Atsumu’s stupid friend, anyway.

“Are we ‘combat boots and angry at the world’ buddies?” Osamu asks once he’s swallowed his food whole.

Keiji takes a moment to think, staring ahead pensively, (possibly) in Atsumu’s direction. “I don’t recall ever being angry at the world, but you seem rather on-edge lately.”

Osamu nods thoughtfully. He doesn’t want to ask this, but he doesn’t want Kenjirou to have another hallway talk with him even more, so despite himself, he says, “You jonesing for my brother?”

“Little bit.”

“He doesn’t have a prom date.” God, Osamu can’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“He’s not going with that junior cheerleader girl?”

“It’s a shrek theme, and he wants to be a princess. She doesn’t want to be an ogre.”

“Why don’t they both be princesses?”

“Ask him yourself.”

“I would, but we were dissecting a shark together today, and after I lit its liver on fire, he told me to never talk to him again,” Keiji says, like this is a completely normal occurrence.

“Perfect,” a sigh leaves Osamu’s lips as he stands up and begins to leave Keiji.

He encounters Kenjirou outside of the SGA room and pulls him away just before he can turn the door handle.

“Can I help you?” Kenjirou asks, clearly not intending to help anyone; when he turns around and sees Osamu, he sounds almost disappointed. “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t actually mean that, the helping thing. I thought you were a lost freshman, or something.”

“‘Tsumu told Akaashi not to talk to him anymore.”

“He does that sometimes,” Kenjirou shrugs like they don’t have a problem on their hands.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Find him another date before he goes bat shit and lectures me on how the class president and student body president have to have dates to prom.”

“Go together.”

“No way.”

“Are you saying he’s not good enough for you?” Osamu grabs Kenjirou by the collar, pushing him against the door. Kenjirou would like to believe the pushing was entirely accidental because it brings the two of them achingly close to each other.

“You can't bully me into going to prom with your brother, but two points for trying.” Kenjirou sticks out a turned up thumb and puts on a fake grin.

“Motherfucker,” Osamu says out of frustration at this minor inconvenience.

“I think you know I prefer dilfs.”

“Fatherfucker.”

“That’s better,” Kenjirou smiles (genuinely this time). As much as Osamu hates to admit it, it’s a remarkably endearing change.

“Why is he so worried about this prom bullshit, anyway?” Osamu has yet to release Kenjirou’s collar.

“He’s really, really, ridiculously into school spirit and public image.”

“But he’s an asshole?”

“I know; it’s part of his image as an asshole jock.”

“What kind of prom dates do asshole jocks have that maintain their images?”

“Cheerleaders,” Kenjirou says with raised eyebrows.

“So this person’s just gotta cheer?”

“And be okay with dressing up as an ogre.”

“Know anyone that’ll do it for free?”

“Nope. Go sell your soul to get your brother a prom date.”

“Hey,” Osamu barks, “I might not have pride, but I have some dignity.”

“Sell my soul?”

“Okay,” Osamu agrees nonchalantly and finally lets the poor fabric of Kenjirou’s collar rest.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

After the final bell, Osamu searches in the hall for the yellow and white sweaters with the school name on them in glitter. The first one he sees is on a dude. Ennoshita Chikara.

Osamu grabs his shoulder, not bothering with a greeting when he turns around and glitter falls off of his sweater. “So, I don’t know if you’re gay, or whatever, but someone needs a date to the prom,” seeing the disgust on Chikara’s face, he continues with, “don’t worry. It’s not me, buddy. Would you be willing to be the ogre to someone’s princess? I’ll give you the President of… the class, I think,’s soul.”

“Boy, you’re out of your mind. I’m clearly a princess, so your degenerate twin can keep his soul.”

Fuck, he offered the wrong soul. “What if it were Shirabu Kenjirou’s soul on the line?”

Chikara’s eyes narrow only slightly. “Enticing, but nope. Maybe Futakuchi will take your offer?”

“Is he a cheerleader?”

Chikara nods.

“Are you sure you don’t want his soul? It’s a real spicy one. Probably fun to own,” Osamu raises his eyebrows with the suggestion.

“Yep.” Chikara turns his head around and calls his friend. “Kenji, this boy wants you to be his friend’s ogre prom date; the compensation is Shirabu Kenjirou’s soul,” he yells across the hall.

Kenji pushes the underclassmen that don’t make way for him aside because he’s a walking stereotype.

“Which boy?” Kenji asks once he’s near Chikara.

“The one touching my shoulder, obviously. Keep your hands to yourself, by the way.” With that, Chikara saunters off.

Kenji grins at Osamu, and it only slightly unsettles Osamu, but he doesn’t budge with the unamused exterior.

“Who do you want me to go to prom with?”

“Wait ‘til everyone leaves the hall.”

Kenji leans in close. “Or we could just go into the janitor’s closet?”

“I can’t be seen slipping into the janitor’s closet with you,” Osamu hisses.

“I guess it’d be pretty bad if I was slipping into the closet with you, too.”

It’s been about two minutes since the bell, and the hall’s are cleared out now. “I need you to promise not to tell anybody except Shirabu and I.”

“Fine. You wanna make it a pinky promise?”

Osamu nods and takes Kenji’s pinky.

“Now tell me what you want.”

“I want you to ask my brother to prom and be the Shrek to his Fiona. Also, it wouldn’t hurt if you could take up some of his free time before then, too because he’s annoying, and I like it when he’s out of the house since that means I don’t ha—” Osamu is cut off.

“Or I could take up your time.”

“What.” It’s not a question, only a statement of bewilderment.

“I’ll be your brother’s ogre under the stipulation that you spend five or so nights with me.”

“Doing?”

Kenji brushes his fingers against Osamu’s lips. “Whatever I want.”

As much as the thought of being someone’s bitch repulses him, Osamu decides to go along with it as he thinks that he’s never going to find his brother another cheerleading ogre. “Make it three, and you’ve got a deal.”

“Got it, stud.”

“Two rules.”

“Go on.”

“Nobody sees us, and nobody other than Shirabu, especially not Atsumu, knows about the deal.”

“Okey dokey,” Kenji grins, “I’ll see you next Friday night? Nine o’ clock, my house. Don’t be late.”

Osamu doesn’t bother with an answer because Kenji is already taking off, brushing the back of his hand against Osamu’s in the process.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

Kenji and Kenjirou are both on the prom committee, yes. Kenji and Kenjirou rarely ever talk, also yes. But today, Kenji grabs Kenjirou’s sleeve after their meeting and begins to whisper.

“So, I don’t know if he already let you know, but I’m supposed to take Atsumu to prom, and I was _prom_ ised your soul and Osamu’s body.”

It takes everything inside of Kenjirou to not yell and make a scene, but he manages a sharp whisper. “He promised you what?”

“You didn’t know about the soul thing? Well, it’s mine now. What can I do with it?”

Kenjirou spares the details of how he knew he was giving away his soul, but he’s baffled by Osamu’s own sacrifice. “Nothing until you’ve successfully asked Atsumu to prom or dogged him into asking you.”

“For real? I've already started cashing in on Osamu,” Kenji pouts, “but I guess I’ll get to asking Atsumu out. Should it be big?”

“Duh, it has to be super conspicuous.”

“You guys are asking for a lot considering I’m only sleeping with Osamu without any bragging rights.”

“I mean, you get to sleep with the other twin, too.”

“Right, I almost forgot that’s what proms are for.”

“Anyway, Osamu and I will plan out the promposal, so it won’t be too much work for you,” Kenjirou tries to compensate for the lack of “bragging rights.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go try to find Osamu and an empty janitor’s closet. See you,” Kenji flashes a flirty smile and goes on his way.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

They’re in Kenjirou’s living room (Osamu didn’t want to be seen in public with Kenjirou, and Atsumu couldn’t see them doing this, so anywhere else was out of the question).

“Why can’t you do this alone?”

“Because,” Kenjirou begins, not knowing where to end.

“Great reason.”

“It’s a lot easier brainstorming with somebody else there to tell you when your ideas are shit,” Kenjirou provides a reason with an exasperated look.

“We need to reference all star.”

Kenjirou looks for a sign, any hint, that Osamu is joking, but he’s staring straightforward with the same dead look on his face as always.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Hey now, wanna be an all star and go to prom with me?” Osamu asks. “We could draw Shrek’s face for the _o_ ’s.”

Kenjirou is trying his hardest not to take his pen and stab himself in the eye. “That’s ridiculous.”

“So is Futakuchi.”

“How was the janitor’s closet?” Kenjirou asks if not out of curiosity, to be annoying.

Kenjirou is unsuccessful in getting a rise out of Osamu because he only shrugs and says, “I rate the experience a solid six and a half.”

“That’s it?”

“Unlike you, I’m not gay, so...”

“He told me you sold your body to him.”

“No, I told him I’d do whatever he wanted for three nights, but then he walked up to me this morning and said that Atsumu is a lot harder to please than he thought, so it’s going to cost more than three nights and one soul. I sympathized because I live with the freak, so I let Futakuchi have a little fun during bell breaks.”

Kenjirou is amazed by Osamu’s ability to keep a straight face and deadpan as he talks about bartering his sexuality for a prom date for his brother. “Can we just clear something up for a second?”

Osamu nods.

“You’re not gay, and you don’t consider your brother to be even a friend, so why are you doing this?”

“I’m open to new experiences, and Atsumu’s a lot less annoying when he’s happy.”

“I thought you went out all the time, so whether Atsumu is being annoying at home or not doesn’t matter.”

“He eats my pudding,” Osamu frowns, like that’s the worst thing in the world, “and wakes me up at four in the morning to complain about his problems because he can’t be alone when he’s stressed.”

“Um, no, he calls me, like, fifty times until I answer.”

“Only if I punch him in the face first, and I can’t do that all the time because then his mother throws her clogs at my head.”

“ _His_ mother?”

“You know what I meant,” Osamu rolls his eyes.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

“So,” Kenji says as he smooths down the lapels of Osamu’s jacket, ignoring the fact that they’re in a room with mops and Clorox because they have serious things to talk about, “what am I going to do for my first date with Atsumu, and how do I ask him out?”

Osamu sighs. It’s way too early in the morning, 6:53 a.m. to be exact, to ponder this. He and Kenjirou had just been looking at the bigger picture so far. They haven’t thought about all the little steps in between the present stage and the goal. “Give me some time to figure it out, and I’ll text you the plan when I’m done.”

“Take your time, babe.” Kenji brushes a strand of hair behind Osamu’s ear.

“Don’t do that.”

“Understood,” Kenji nods solemnly.

“Do you have Shirabu’s number?”

“Yeah.”

“Send it to me?”

“That’ll cost you a kiss.”

Osamu would be rolling his eyes if Kenji weren’t very attractive and very skilled with his mouth, but he is, so Osamu closes his eyes and leans in.

 

 

 

 

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

 

 

 

 

“This is so dumb.”

“Must that be your opening statement every time I kindly let you into my family’s foyer?” Kenjirou asks, not looking for an answer, only hoping Osamu doesn’t ‘accidentally’ knock over one of the antique vases or stuff a priceless trinket into his pocket.

“Yes. I got your number, so we could text about this shit, no so I would have to spend another nanosecond in this cold ass museum you call a home.”

Kenjirou leads Osamu to the living room. “I like this cold ass museum, so deal with it. You can leave after you dish out a good idea or two.”

“Got one: you do all the planning, and I get out of here?” He says, but he sits down, so Kenjirou only responds by pulling out the chair next to him.

“Mind if I ask a question unrelated to dates?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome. Does Akaashi wear eyeliner?”

“He has a part time job at Sephora,” Osamu offers explanation.

“Didn’t know Sephora hired pyros with a penchant for hallucinogens.”

“Yeah, but he has pretty eyes when they’re not red, so they gave him the job.”

“That was pretty gay.”

“Whatever, let’s just plan Atsumu and Kenji’s next, like, seven dates.”

“You did not just call him Kenji.”

“He insisted since he calls me Osamu,” he shrugs it off. Kenjirou does, too.

“They could go to the fair.”

“And do what? Watch fireworks? That’s so lame.”

“But fireworks are cool,” Kenjirou defends firmly, eyebrows knitting together in disapproval of Osamu’s statement.

“Fine, maybe they’ll have fun eating sugar off of sticks, or whatever.”

“What do you have against fairs?”

“The last time I went, the firework ashes hit my eye, and all the food was straight processed carbs. There’s a lot of realm for disaster, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with sending them out there alone for the first time.”

Kenjirou drops his jaw in exaggeration although his voice remains rather toneless. “Are you actually expressing concern?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s inappropriate of you to suggest considering you’re fucking your brother’s soon-to-be boyfriend,” Kenjirou challenges, but Osamu decides not to step up to it.

“They could go on a picnic,” Osamu changes the subject.

“I guess that’d be cute, but we’d have to prepare the food, wouldn’t we?”

“Or they could just bring subs from a corner store to a park and call it a picnic.”

“Atsumu would be so disappointed if his date did that. Have you no class? Futakuchi can’t bring subs from a corner store.”

“Fine, but if the food is being made at home, the picnic has to be all out, like having it at night and bringing tealights to set the tone, and there needs to be strawberries dipped in chocolate for some aphrodisiac.”

Kenjirou wants to laugh at Osamu stating the need for aphrodisiacs, but quite frankly, Osamu is intimidating, and he doesn’t feel like dying today. Instead, he keeps his endearment locked away in a tiny compartment in his head. “I’ll write that down.”

“They could always go to dinner and a movie, but one of those drive in movies, so they’re more… alone, or whatever.”

“Mhmm,” Kenjirou nods, and he’s begun to make a list of ideas on a legal pad that happened to be on the dining table (he definitely didn’t set it there ahead of time).

“So, not that I really care, but what was your first date like?”

“Bowling, double date, third year of junior high. It was terrible; they’re not doing that.”

“You had a date in junior high?”

“Your brother talked me into occupying this girl’s friend who used way too much perfume and mousse because he wanted to spend time alone with her, so yes, I did.”

“Was the friend a,” Osamu clears his throat and hopes Kenjirou gets it. Kenjirou only looks with expectant eyes, so Osamu meets him with an equally as expectant stare.

“It was a girl, dumbass. I said perfume, not cologne.”

“Just curious, you wouldn’t have went on the double date if the friend were a boy, would you’ve?”

“This is so irrelevant, but probably not at the time.”

“But now?”

“What’s it to you?”

Osamu saves his current predicament of sexual identity confusion (brought on by none other than Futakuchi Kenji) for himself. “Nothing. I already told you, I was just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“I haven't died yet, have I?”

“Maybe you will soon.”

“What’re you gonna do? Throw one of your gold-dragon-adorned urns at me?” Osamu wishes he could take that back because Kenjirou’s eyes flicker to a set of urns only an arm’s length away, and god so help him, he’s been giving him ideas.

“Do you really want to find out?”

“I’ll drop it.”

“Maybe they could go mini golfing,” Kenjirou goes back on topic.

“Leave mini golfing to Happy Gilmore.”

“Wow, okay, and what’s your better idea?”

Osamu stares Kenjirou dead in the eyes and takes an entire two seconds to think this through. “A double date in a bowling alley.”

Kenjirou begins to reach for an urn, but controls himself as he says, “Get out of my house.”

“Not a problem.” Osamu’s grinning as he’s kicking his chair back (and of course pushing it in before he leaves because he’s convinced that otherwise Kenjirou will murder him in cold blood).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


	2. Being normal is weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Keiji and Atsumu

“I thought I told you to stay away from me after you lit our shark on fire?” Atsumu asks, but he’s got this flirty smile on his face, and in addition to making Keiji’s insides melt, it let’s Keiji know that he doesn’t have to actually stay away. 

“I couldn't bring myself to do so,” Keiji grins back although subtly. Some stare at the exchange because, well, Keiji wears eyeliner and heavy combat boots. With a suit. And Atsumu has a fan club (Keiji’s only secretly the president) that not only goes to his volleyball matches but also follows him home occasionally. 

“What's with all these girls following you?” Keiji looks back, nodding to a group of six or so walking approximately a meter behind. 

“There are girls following me?” Atsumu looks behind, eyes wide with shock, but he adjusts his expression to a sweet (and fake) smile when he sees them because he hears a chorus of pleased exclamations.

“You never noticed your fan club ensuring you get home safely before?” 

“I have a fan club?” 

“You’re kind of daft, but you’re real cute,” Keiji says, and he doesn’t care that he says it out loud despite not having intended to because Atsumu doesn’t care either.

“I’m going to pretend to not have just heard that.”

“Solid. Anyway, I hear you’re looking for a prom date.” 

“I’m thinking about it.” 

“About what?”

“Looking for one or waiting for someone to ask,” Atsumu stops looking straight ahead at the neighborhood in favor of looking at Keiji. 

“That was suggestive.” 

“No worries, I didn’t mean you,” Atsumu teases. Keiji doesn’t take it to heart. 

“You could always ask out one of your fangirls.”

“Hell no. They're, like, freshmen.”

“I think I see a junior or two over there,” Keiji says as he looks over his shoulder. 

“Who cares about them unless they’re willing to dress in a Shrek costume for me?” 

“Just saying, I think you’d make an awesome dragon, and I’d make an awesome donkey.” 

“You mean ‘cause you’re an ass?” 

“I can do your makeup and make you look like a fire-breather,” Keiji suggests, knowing that he has no intention of going to prom, and Atsumu is adamant about being Fiona. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell from your double wing eyeliner that you’re inclined to cosmetics.” 

“Looks groovy, don’t you think?” Keiji keeps a straight face aside from some eyebrow wiggling. 

“It really brings out your eyes,” Atsumu says. 

Keiji wants to reply with “no shit,” but he doesn’t. He only grins at Atsumu. 

“Where do you live?” Atsumu asks, and it doesn’t come out as creepy, surprisingly enough. 

“Like, a ten minute drive west from the school.”

“We’re going east?” 

“Yeah, my car’s at the school, but I wanted to walk you home since you only live a short while away.” 

“You mean to tell me you left your car at that penitentiary so you could walk me home?” 

“Should the senior class president be calling the school a penitentiary?” 

“You could’ve just driven me home.” 

“I wasn’t going to just say, ‘Hey, Atsumu, do you want a ride home even though you told me to never talk to you again?’ I had to make sure we’re cool first. On an unrelated note, I’m pretty sure we just passed your house.” 

“Li’l bit creepy that you know where I live.” 

“Dude, I’ve been to your house, like, twelve million times to hang out with Osamu.”

“I’ve never seen you there before?” Atsumu asks, and he hasn’t bothered to turn back nor look for his house. 

“That’s because we only hang out there when you’re gone since he doesn’t like being in the same room as you for more than ten hours per day.” 

“Wow, rude.”

“Shall we turn back?” 

“You both can burn alive, but okay.” 

“Hey, I, for the record, like being in the same room as you — or on the same earth since we aren’t in a room right now.” 

The fan club disperses in an organized fashion. Three girls stand on either side of the sidewalk, making way for Atsumu, but they stand in a united wall when it’s time for Keiji to walk by. 

“Ladies, please,” Keiji doesn’t bother finishing the sentence because two of the girls cut him off to speak in sync. 

“You’re the reason he didn’t get home on time!” 

“He didn’t have to be home at a certain time,” Keiji sighs when he catches Atsumu tossing a glance at him. “Throw me a bone? Atsumu?” Keiji calls. 

No bones are thrown. Keiji has to wait in front of a six-woman wall for two and a half minutes until Atsumu is safely inside his home.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

“Mr. President, sir,” Kenji calls for Atsumu’s attention after the first bell rings.

“Yo.”

“Would you care for an outing to the local bowling alley? Just the two of us?” Kenji asks quietly but loud enough for only Atsumu to hear.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe,” Kenji drags on the vowels. 

“I mean, I don’t know if I really like dudes, but I’ve got nothing better to do,” Atsumu shrugs. 

“Pick you up at six?”

“Sure.” 

“Alright, later,” Kenji smiles and leaves Atsumu to walk to class.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

Atsumu takes one last look in the mirror and fixes his hair. He doesn’t know why he’s taking this so serio—

A series of loud, rocky knocks sound, and Atsumu glances over to the window and tries not to scream. The curtains are pushed aside; he sees blue eyes and eyeliner, so he opens the window.

“What the fuck, Akaashi.” 

“Keiji,” he says.

“What the fuck, Keiji.” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

“I have a front door.”

“Osamu told your mother the reason I never come over while you’re home is because I have a huge crush on you, and I know Osamu is out feeding stray dogs, or whatever, so I thought this would be easier than having a talk with your mother.” 

“I’m leaving in, like, five minutes. You can come back later since Osamu isn’t going to be coming home until tomorrow.” 

“But your mom thinks he’s spending the night at my house.” Keiji takes a few steps closer to Atsumu. 

“She’s leaving soon and won’t be home until one. Come back around nine.” Atsumu’s phone chimes. It’s Kenji letting him know that he’s outside. “Time for you to go, buddy,” Atsumu shoos him out of the window. 

“Bye, cutie,” Keiji says. 

“Bye, freak.” Atsumu finds something alluring about this freak.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

Osamu’s been petting the same stray cat in the park for the past fifteen minutes, but their alone time is cut short because Kenjirou’s calling.

“What?” Osamu balances the phone on his shoulder, so he can hold the tabby with two hands. 

“Hello to you, too.”

“Hi,” Osamu says, but the tone is a bit harsher than he had hoped for.

“I just thought I’d let you know that Atsumu and Kenji are going out tonight.”

“To a bowling alley, I heard.” 

“Will you let that fucking go?” Kenjirou groans, and the kitten purrs as Osamu scratches her behind the ear. 

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Nope, Atsumu asked me if I had bowling shoes. I don’t know why he thought I would have them, but he asked.” 

“That’s so, ugh, I can’t believe Kenji picked that.” 

“Maybe he’ll put mousse in his hair, too.” 

“Bye,” Kenjirou growls.

“No, I have a question first,” Osamu says, but Kenjirou doesn’t answer. He hasn’t hanged up yet, either, so Osamu continues, “What made you realize you’re gay?” 

“It’s not just one thing, it’s a build up of experiences. Why do you care, anyway?”

“I want to die, so I’m expressing my curiosity.” 

“If you really wanted to die, you’d come over, so I could throw my vases at you,” Kenjirou says, and Osamu knows that he’s inviting him over, but he has to be at Kenji’s house later. 

“Alright, but I can’t stay long.”

“I thought you wanted to perish? That stuff is permanent, you know.” 

“Whatever. I'm hanging up. See you in ten minutes.” Osamu looks at the tabby and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing, uh, Ginger, yeah, that’ll be your name. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Osamu gives her one last ear scratch before making his way to Kenjirou’s.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

Atsumu and Kenji have been at a tie for the past twenty-seven minutes, and Kenji’s has his third gutter ball in a row.

“Are you throwing the game for me?” Atsumu knows the answer, and he didn’t want to have to ask, but this date is really going nowhere, and Kenji can only say how crazy this is so many times. 

“I mean, kind of.”

Atsumu wonders if Keiji would throw a bowling game for him. “That’s unfortunate because I was throwing it for you.” 

Kenji grins. “New game?”

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

Because there’s no planning to be done at the moment, Kenjirou and Osamu sit on the Italian, leather couch rather than at the dining table.

“How do you live in this place? I feel like I’m going to break something worth seven limbs every time I move?” 

“I breathe.” 

“Good answer. You should tell me why you like boys.” 

“In freshman year, I went to pick up my homecoming date, and when I thought about how much I’d rather be going with her brother, I knew for sure that I was pretty fucking gay,” Kenjirou tells Osamu the quick version. 

“That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?”

“A detailed and eye-opening recount of your first time with a guy.” 

“I went to her house to break up with her the next week, and her brother answered the door in only a towel, and we kissed.”

Osamu leans closer to Kenjirou. “Tell me more.” 

“No.”

“Hey, I didn’t come over here just for a sparsely detailed anecdote.” 

“Then what’d you come over here for?” Kenjirou whispers, leaning in close enough for his breaths to tickle Osamu’s neck.

Osamu might be dumb, but he isn’t stupid. It’s clear where this conversation is headed: not where he wants it to. So, that’s a lie. After having to stare into this boy’s pretty brown eyes for a week or so, Osamu wants to kiss, and it’s nice to know that Kenjirou want to, too, but he doesn’t think they should. 

It takes superhuman power for Osamu to say, “I have to go.” 

“You’ve only been here for, like, five minutes?” 

“Told you I couldn’t stay long, didn’t I?” Osamu tries to avoid eye contact, hoping to escape Kenjirou’s disappointment, but he knows it’s there, so looking away isn’t doing him any good. 

“Okay,” Kenjirou frowns and leans back away. 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” Osamu awkwardly opens his arms for a hug; Kenjirou reluctantly accepts it.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

Keiji climbs in through the window again; Atsumu left it unlocked.

“You know you could’ve come in through the front door since my mom’s gone, right?” Atsumu is standing in front of a full-body mirror, unbuttoning his shirt.

“That wouldn’t be any fun,” Keiji says deadpan; Atsumu can’t tell whether he’s kidding or not. “Not that it’s any of my business, but where’d you go?” 

“I had a bowling date.” 

“You like her?”

“It was a boy, actually. Futakuchi Kenji.” 

“You went out in public with a boy? Alone?” 

“The bowling alley was dead as ever, so yeah.” Atsumu begins to unbutton his jeans, and oh, no, Keiji can’t be in here right now. 

“I feel that I should close my eyes, but I also feel compelled not to,” Keiji expresses his concern.

“Look, but don’t touch.” 

“As you wish, princess.” 

Atsumu grins at that and blows a kiss. Keiji catches it and blows one back. Surely, it’s caught by Atsumu before he slips on a pair of sweats and pulls Keiji by the hand to his bed. 

“You’re more fun than Kenji, so don’t get jealous, or whatever.”

“Wasn’t part of the plan.” It was part of the plan. Keiji had already mentally scheduled it into tomorrow, but he takes it out, and he’s free at four again. 

“God, I can’t believe I just pulled a boy who sets shark livers on fire to my bed.” 

“You’re not going to lecture me on the medicinal value of shark liver oil again, are you?” Keiji asks, hand in Atsumu’s as they sit beside each other. 

“Maybe I’ll lecture you on how to act like a normal human being.”

“Being normal is weird.”

Claiming Keiji’s shoulder as his new pillow, Atsumu drawls, “You’re so right.” 

Keiji likes this activity. It feels very couple-like when he runs his fingers through Atsumu’s hair. 

“You’re lulling me to sleep.”

“My bad.”

“I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna spend time with you.” Atsumu’s voice is light and quieter than usual. “And I have a question for you, too, you know. You’re so strange, but it’s so attractive the way you just _don’t care_. I mean, like, for other people’s opinions. That’s so hot, and you don’t get flustered when you speak to me or threaten my life or flirt with me in ways that are outrageously sexually suggestive and objectifying. So, what I guess I’m trying to say is: why do you like me?”

Keiji tríes not to laugh at how unrelated Atsumu’s question is to the spiel preceding it. “Most of the school is afraid of me aside from you and maybe three others. I like people who aren’t afraid of me, and I like talking to you and working with you in marine biology because you make me smile more than usual.”

“Sounds like solid reasoning. Are we supposed to kiss now?” 

“Not if you don’t want to.” 

“I want you to kiss me first, so don’t keep me waiting.” Atsumu stops leaning on Keiji’s shoulder to be at eye level and closes his eyes. Keiji does the same as he plants a quick peck on Atsumu’s lips. “That was so chaste.”

“Did you want something less chaste?”

“I’m not going to name them.” 

Keiji takes note of Atsumu’s use of the plural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ❤️❤️


	3. Sugar Plum and THC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenjirou has fun! Also a lil bit of angst but not really it’s laughable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... i read through sorry if there r still grammar mistakes

Kenjirou’s phone is vibrating on his end table. His eyes open slowly and immediately find his alarm clock. 3:57 a.m. He picks up the smartphone. It’s Atsumu. Of course it’s Atsumu. 

“Kenjirou, this is big. Totally big. Very big, and I’m really freaking out because it’s really registering now.” 

“Stop saying ‘totally’ all the time. It makes you sound like a white girl.” 

“Shut up,” Atsumu says before taking a deep breath. “I’m falling for a delinquent.” 

Now it’s Kenjirou’s turn to “really register” this. “You're fucking what?” 

“I think I like Akaashi.” 

Kenjirou can’t even begin to answer.

“You know, the one with the dark hair, and the double-wing eyeliner, and the really, really, _really_ blue eyes.” 

“Okay, first things first, you like boys? Second, Akaashi Keiji? Really, Atsumu? I mean, sure he’s hot, but really? That’s your type? Boys who set the innards of dissected animals on fire?” 

“It was an accident! We talked about it, okay?” 

“Sharks are vulnerable, you know! They’re technically threatened!” It is far too early to be having this discussion. 

“Kenjirou! That isn’t the _problem_! Let it go, and let me speak!” 

“Then speak.” 

“Thank you,” Atsumu takes a deep breath. “I just went on a date with Futakuchi, and I don’t even like him. I didn’t even think I liked dudes, but I was super bored, and he asked me out, so I was like, alright, and we kissed at that stupid bowling alley that you and I went to in junior high, and I hated it. I mean, it was nice, but I was kind of wishing I was kissin’ Keiji.”

This is perfect. Kenjirou’s soul has been sold to this boy, and he wasn’t even able to woo one damn person. Whatever, Kenjirou will put that aside to get the tea. “Why?” 

“So, earlier in the week, Keiji walked me home after school to say sorry about destroying our shark, and he was kind of fun to talk to, and I mean, I knew he’s liked me since the beginning of the year because he’s so obvious about it, but I didn’t realize how engaging he is until now. 

“Then, he knocked on my window and I let him in, and we talked, and we talked some more, and we kissed, _a lot_ , and he just left, like, three hours ago.” 

“Atsumu.”

“Kenjirou.”

“Do you even know him well enough to be falling for him?”

Atsumu sighs, and Kenjirou can hear the eye roll. “Who cares? Bad boys are hot, and I want this one.” Kenjirou can definitely agree with that although he won’t admit it. 

“Are you sure he’s not a psychopath?” 

“Where did that come from? Even if he is, he‘s electrifying, and I like it.”

“Please tell me this isn’t just an experimental phase because I swear to god if you play him, you’re going to have to skip town. He’s fucking terrifying, and I would rather commit ritual suicide than piss him off.” 

“You’re afraid he’s gonna kill me?”

“It’s a valid concern, Atsumu.”

“Bro.”

“What?”

“He works in a makeup shop.” 

“He will cut you with his juvie-made shank.” 

“He hasn’t been to juvie.” 

“Sure, and I’m straight. Wanna keep the lie-chain going?”

“How do you think Osamu will react? To Keiji and I?” Atsumu’s voice is quiet, somewhat worried. “You know, since he and Keiji are, like, emo buddies, or whatever?”

“He’ll probably tell Akaashi that he’s making a grave mistake, but other than that, I don’t think he’d really care.” 

“Alright, I’m gonna make him ask me out.” 

“Why don’t you just ask him yourself?” 

“Because then he’ll know I really like him.” 

Kenjirou doesn’t bother telling Atsumu that he’s ridiculous. “Okay, well, I’m going to try to sleep again now that you’ve got that off your chest.” 

“Alright, later.”

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

It’s 6:23 a.m. Osamu wakes up with regret, and the boy lying shirtless beside him is nothing more than a reminder. He tries to be as quiet as possible when he takes the sheets off of him, and he successfully removes himself and dresses without Kenji waking up.

But he gets out into the hall, and there are already voices having what sounds like intelligent conversation about politics and stocks, and Osamu isn’t looking for confrontation, so maybe he’ll just sneak out of Kenji’s window. 

The conversation stops, and Osamu can hear footsteps, so he tries to go back into the bedroom.

“Oh, goodness! You scared me! Are you a friend of Kenji’s?” A woman, not a day over forty asks when Osamu’s halfway through the door. 

“Something like that.”

“Kenji likes to sleep in on the weekends, but you’re welcome to stay for breakfast if you’d like,” she smiles. 

Osamu takes a moment to prepare a firm yet polite decline, but his stomach speaks too soon for him when it rumbles.

“Oh, honey, go have a seat with my husband in the kitchen. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” 

Five minutes later, Osamu is forcing a smile while the smell of blueberry pancakes wafts through the open room. 

“So, um,” Kenji’s father waits almost expectantly.

“Osamu.” 

“Osamu, how long have you and Kenji known each other? He never tells us about his friends.” 

“Since freshman year.” 

“And you wouldn’t happen to be more than just friends with Kenji, would you?” 

“No, sir.” 

“You’re not much of a talker are you?”

“No, sir.” 

It’s a painful two hours of “no, sir”s and “yes, ma’am”s, but Osamu gets fed, so he forgets about the inconvenience of having to socially interact with others (who happen to think he’s shagging their son; he is).

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

It’s Monday morning again, and Kenjirou is waiting outside of the Miya residence when Osamu leaves.

“Atsumu won’t be out for another twenty minutes.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.” Kenjirou begins walking alongside Osamu. 

“What’s up?” 

“We have a problem, fool,” Kenjirou says, like it’s obvious. “How are we going to address it?” 

“Which is?”

“Didn’t you hear his four a.m. call to me on Friday? Well, I guess I should say Saturday. Whatever, you know what I mean!” Kenjirou seems to be tired of this whole “being correct” thing. 

“No, I had an all-night thing with Kenji.” 

Kenjirou fully understands that Osamu agreed to give Kenji three nights and then some. He fully understands that this is a perfectly reasonable excuse as he’s indirectly responsible for Osamu’s deal with Kenji, yet he still asks, “Are you fucking serious right now?” Because Kenjirou has emotions, and sometimes they become sad when the boy he almost kissed goes out to “spend the night with” another boy. Because Kenjirou knows what “spend the night with” is code for. 

“It was obligatory.”

“Wonderful.” Kenjirou can feel heat under his feet on the pavement when he picks up speed and leaves Osamu behind.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

“Mind if I sit?” Atsumu asks, nearing Keiji and Osamu’s lunch table.

“Yes,” Osamu answers as Keiji says the opposite. 

“Wow, asshole. I'm your flesh and blood, and this is how you treat me?”

“Yes.” 

“Fine,” Atsumu turns his attention away from Osamu and parks it near Keiji. “When are you going to ask me out?”

“Wanna go out?” Keiji asks. Osamu is beginning to think this may be what Kenjirou described as “a problem”. 

“And do what?” 

“Eat jellybeans and make out.” 

“Right now?” 

“Okay.” Keiji pulls his keys out of his pocket and slings his arm around Atsumu’s waist. “Osamu, we’re leaving.” 

“Since when do you skip school?” Osamu calls out to his brother as he walks away. He doesn’t get a response unless a discreet but vulgar gesture with his middle finger counts.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

“Were you ever planning on telling me about our problem?” Osamu’s voice startles Kenjirou as he closes his locker and Osamu comes into sight.

“Fucking baby Christ, can you not do that?” 

“It caught me off guard when they left lunch to make out.” 

“I’m sure it did.” Kenjirou begins to walk away. Again. 

“What should we do about it?” Osamu asks, following behind. 

“Don’t worry about it; it’s not like you ever really wanted to help, anyway.” Kenjirou speaks with a cold tone, and he hasn’t made eye contact since this morning. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Osamu reaches forward; his fingertips are hot on Kenjirou’s shoulders. “Damn, you’re tense. Want a massage?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Kenjirou doesn’t answer, but he can’t walk away either, because Osamu’s hands are still holding a firm grip.

“Let’s hang out.”

“I know you just lost your only friend to your brother, but please don’t try to replace him with me.”

“Kenjirou.” Osamu turns him around and plants a palm on either side of Kenjirou’s face. “Have you ever had fun before?”

“I didn’t think I’d have to reiterate this, but you’re disgusting.” 

“Stop taking things the wrong way, you pervert, and come hang out with me. Loosen up. Destress. Have fucking fun. Then, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Let’s go.” Osamu grabs Kenjirou’s arm and pulls him out of the school.

✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿❁❁✿✿

“This is so dumb.” Kenjirou hears the grass rustling under his feet.

“Dumber than planning dates for my brother and the boy we gave your soul to?”

Kenjirou remembers Osamu’s first comment, all but one time he entered Kenjirou’s house. “Yes.” 

As Osamu tugs Kenjirou down to the ground with him, he says, “Lying in the grass is fun, especially if we’re trespassing.” 

“But we can see the beach from here,” Kenjirou frowns.

“It’s a nice eyeful of blue, isn't it?” 

“Why don’t we just go down there?”

“Because I hate the sand. If you wanna go, I’ll go, though.” 

“Maybe later.” 

“Cool.” Osamu leaves his fingers curled around Kenjirou’s wrist. “Hey, do you like dogs? They have a watchdog, but he’s friendly, so it’s alright.”

“Dogs are cool.” 

“Good, because there’s a Rottweiler coming by that I like to call Sugar Plum; I think his real name is Maximus, or something snobby.”

“Sugar Plum?”

“He’s sweet, and I would marry him if I could.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“There are sort of laws against man marrying dog. Besides, I’m into someone else, anyway.” 

“Whatever. I still think you should marry the dog,” Kenjirou says, and as if Sugar Plum heard his name being called, he shows up and starts licking Kenjirou’s face. “I love canine affection, so I’m going to pretend like my face isn’t slobbery.”

Sugar Plum is quiet when he turns over and lies on his back. 

“Rub his belly,” Osamu directs, and Kenjirou follows for a good eight minutes before Sugar Plum gives them both passionate, wet and slobbery kisses. 

Kenjirou cracks a smile when he runs his fingers through Sugar Plum’s soft fur, but soon, Sugar Plum says goodbye and leaves Osamu and Kenjirou alone again. 

“Having fun yet?” 

“This is fun enough.” Kenjirou cranes his neck, so he can look at Osamu. And maybe stare into his eyes, too. Forever. 

Osamu stares back, but Kenjirou thinks he’s mistaken this for a staring contest because he isn’t blinking. His eyes are wide, golden brown, and complemented by long, dark eyelashes. Kenjirou’s eyes flicker down to his lips, but not for long. 

“Why're you looking at me like that?” Osamu asks, and Kenjirou swears he’s got the brain capacity of a crow. 

Kenjirou tells himself he wasn’t just looking at Osamu like he wanted to kiss him passionately and ride him like a horse. “What are you talking about? Anyway, I guess we should clarify that the problem is Atsumu dating Keiji and the fact that he probably won’t want to go to prom with Futakuchi, so we have to tell him that his assistance is no longer needed.”

“Great, I’ll tell him when I see him tomorrow morning.” 

“You already planned to see him?” 

“Yeah, he likes to schedule meetings in advance,” Osamu laughs, and fuck, Kenjirou was so close to not being jealous anymore, but Osamu _laughs_ , and he _grins_ when he's talking about _him_. “What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“You look like you have a stick up your ass again.”

Kenjirou makes a mental note that Osamu is more observant that he had previously thought. “Nothing.”

“Have you ever smoked?”

“Uh, no, I don’t like introducing myself to toxic carcinogens.”

“Me neither. I meant weed.” Osamu sits up; Kenjirou follows suit. 

“Osamu, I swear to god, you’re giving me enough anxiety with the trespassing, please don’t pull out green.” 

Osamu pulls out the green and a note. “Exactly. You need to relax, so relax — with marijuana.” Kenjirou doesn’t feel very relaxed, but he does take notice that Osamu said nothing about being called by his name this time. “Let me show you how to roll a joint. Watch.” 

“I’m not looking.” 

“Fine.” Osamu rolls it anyway, lights it up, and rolls it around between his fingers before giving it to Kenjirou. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” 

“Put it between your lips, Kenjirou.” When Osamu says his name, Kenjirou feels oddly gooey inside and obliged to please him, so he does what he says. “Inhale now and exhale when you take it out.” 

Kenjirou begins coughing in a cloud of smoke. “Totally relaxing,” he glares at Osamu, who laughs before taking the joint and putting it in his mouth. He does exactly what Kenjirou did, but he doesn’t cough. “You’re the absolute worst.”

“Wait a little before you exhale,” Osamu says as taps ash off the end and passes the joint back to Kenjirou. 

It takes six minutes of repetition for Kenjirou to finally get it, but when he does, it feels so damn triumphant.

“Fun, right?” As Kenjirou smiles at him, Osamu takes the joint, flicks the cherry off, and puts the end to his tongue. 

“Did you just lick burning weed?” 

“What, you don’t?” Osamu asks, knowing the answer is obvious. 

Kenjirou stares at him, eyes wide, for a good thirteen seconds before saying, “won’t the people who own this place smell it?” 

“If they’re home, yeah, but Sugar Plum usually barks when they ge—” Osamu is interrupted by Sugar Plum barking a chorus. He and Kenjirou exchange a look, shortly followed by Osamu grabbing Kenjirou by the hand, rushing down to the beach, and almost tripping over the bushes between the grass and the sand. 

Kenjirou wants to freak out, but he thinks his heart rate is only high because of THC consumption and maybe running for his life, so he only says, “I hate you so much.” He’s feeling too hungry to panic, anyway. 

“No, you don’t,” Osamu whispers while wrapping an arm around Kenjirou’s shoulders and pulls him close once they’re downhill in the sand. 

Kenjirou turns his head to see Osamu’s eyes red and the lazy grin on his face, and Kenjirou can’t help but smile. He’s beginning to think he really does like him. “Okay, maybe I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading mwah LY


	4. Boys Are Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i decided that it’s stjpid to put the epilogue in a chapter of its own since its like five words long 
> 
> Here it is hope you like it

Kenjirou realizes that he and Osamu aren’t technically friends. They never did anything to confirm their friendship. Okay, they smoked weed together, but that doesn’t make them friends. It doesn’t matter. Kenjirou is confused, and he wants to know where they stand with each other.

So, Kenjirou does what any confused teenager awaiting confrontation would. He stops walking toward Osamu’s locker, turns around, and takes off in the opposite direction.

As he’s taking off, he can’t help but notice something at the end of the hall. The door to the janitor’s closet is cracking open, and the bearer of his soul and the bearer achy breaky heart are leaving, smiling, and laughing, their fingers locked and laced. Okay, the fingers locked and laced was an exaggeration because they stop talking after being out of the closet for half a second, but Osamu and Kenji weren’t supposed to meet in the afternoon.

Osamu sees Kenjirou and nods at him. Kenjirou keeps running.

An important lesson is reaffirmed to Kenjirou today.

Boys are bad.

 

 

 

 

 

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“I hate boys,” Kenjirou says, barging into Atsumu’s room. When he realizes he’s startled his friend, Kenjirou says, “Your mom let me in.” The look on Atsumu’s face doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. There’s a cloud of stress around Kenjirou and it’s raining hard and heavy.

Kenjirou is only talking to Atsumu, but they have present company.

“Get out. Now.” Kenjirou’s voice isn’t loud, but it’s commanding enough to make Osamu listen without objection.

“So, um, wanna take a deep breath? And maybe a seat?”

“Yes.” Kenjirou takes multiple deep breaths. He walks toward the bed Atsumu sits on; Atsumu flinches. “I’m not going to hurt you, dull boy.”

“Wow, alright. You’re a real scary asshole when you’re angry, you know that?”

“Yes, and I apologize for that, but I need to vent right now.”

“Pretend I’m Dr. Phil, and tell me what’s good.”

“Nothing is good. Boys suck, and they’re awful, and good for nothing, and they can’t keep their dicks in their pants, and it pisses me off.”

“Squeeze the cactus, Kenjirou.”

“Excuse me?”

Atsumu takes a sponge cactus from off his end table and hands it to Kenjirou. “I squeeze this when I’m stressed. Wanna try?”

Kenjirou nods and opens and closes his hand around it rhythmically.

“Wanna talk more about it?”

“He’s the absolute worst. I completely hate him. It’s so obvious that I like him; I _made_ it so obvious, and I was so sure he liked me, too, like completely sure. And then he slept with our school slut, again, and I’m _never_ liking a boy again. Ever. He can suck a tit.”

“Want me to injure him?”

“No, he’s too pretty for injuries, but, like, I fucking hate him.”

“What about emotional injuries? Or financial? I could set his car on fire.”

Kenjirou recalls that car taking him to the beach. Atsumu doesn’t know it, but it’s the same car that takes him to work, too. “I know you’re dating a, um, pyromaniac now, but please. No.”

“If you don’t want me to, Keiji can. He likes doing stuff like that, anyway.”

“You flatter me with your endless altruism, really, but I won’t disclose the identity of this heartless dipshit. Let’s get ice cream.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

It’s times like these that Kenjirou is glad he has a friend.

 

 

 

 

 

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It’s been a week since last contact with Osamu when the devil shows face at Kenjirou’s locker after school.

“Hey, you seemed really pissed the other day, so I thought I’d just give you some space.”

Kenjirou shuts his locker without verbally answering. He hopes his lack of eye contact and walking away communicates enough for him.

“Look, I don’t know what asshole broke your heart, but don’t take it out on me. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Kenjirou keeps walking, faster this time.

“We could roll one together if you want? Whatever will cheer you up?”

“Putz.”

Yes! That seems to have effectively conveyed the message of “don’t fucking talk to me” without Kenjirou having to say it out right.

 

 

 

 

 

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“Why won’t he talk to me?” Osamu pouts at Keiji.

“Because.” Keiji gives Osamu a look that he’s supposed to understand but doesn’t, so Keiji elaborates. “Boys suck.”

“You think I,” Osamu stops himself, and he wipes the offended look off of his face, literally. “Fuck.”

“I mean, Atsumu only told me whatever he knew, and I’m pretty sure the boy that sucks is you since you guys have been flirting for the past monthish, but don’t take my word for it.”

“Stop saying that after you make sense.”

“It covers my ass in case you don’t suck,” Keiji says, but he follows with a whispered, “You do, though.”

“I suck.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Wait, how'd you know we were flirting?”

“I saw you walking to his house a couple of times on my way to work, and then, I saw you at his locker, and you don’t talk to people to have normal social interaction. You’re fucking weird. And now you’re upset about him ignoring you, so you must enjoy his presence, and he’s angry with _you_ after yelling about how terrible boys are. From this, I gathered that you two like each other. But I have a question for you: who’s the school slut?”

Osamu rolls his eyes in a sort of “fuck off” kind of sense, but Keiji still waits for an answer.

“Futakuchi.”

“That’s who like to sleep with?”

“No, it was a promised sort of thing, and there was a cancellation fee, and I don’t like him, not in that way.”

“You’re stupid.”

“I know.”

 

 

 

 

 

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“So, I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Atsumu says quietly so only Kenjirou can hear. “I’m not going to prom. I’m gonna stay home and hang out with Keiji.”

On the inside, Kenjirou says, “I just went to hell and back trying to find you a date. I no longer have a soul. Attendance is mandatory if you’re in SGA. What the fuck?” But Kenjirou only takes harassing Keiji into asking Atsumu to prom off of his to do list and says, “Alright, have fun.”

 

 

 

 

 

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Kenjirou was really looking forward to walking through an empty hall, not having to interact with others, and maybe even some peace, but even when he leaves class four minutes after the last bell, there are a few stragglers and somebody down hallway. Right next to his locker.

“Hey, Kenjirou,” Osamu calls, opening his arms for a hug when Kenjirou gets closer.

“No.”

“Okay, well, I heard that Atsumu isn’t going to prom.”

“From who?”

“Keiji. Guess his public image doesn’t matter that much after all, huh?”

“And yours? I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me?”

“You’re worth it,” Osamu shrugs.

“Are you going to prom with Futakuchi now since Atsumu isn’t?” Kenjirou doesn’t know why he says this, but in all his jealousy, he does. 

“I’m not going. You should skip, too. We could do something together. I mean, only if you want, but, um, I guess I should stop talking now.”

Kenjirou can’t quite put a name to this emotion that’s overcome him at the moment, but he feels... lighter. Relieved — that’s the word! 

“I can’t; I have to give a short speech before it begins.”

“You can practice giving it to me.”

“Osamu, say things in your head first.”

“Got it.”

“I’m leaving.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“No thanks.”

He walks Kenjirou home anyway. 

 

 

 

 

 

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“Putting up decorations was hell, but the venue is gorgeous now,” Kenjirou says, combing his hair back. “You should come to see it, even if you didn’t help.” He blows a straggler up off of his forehead. “Asshole.” He gives a pointed glare to Atsumu via mirror.

“I would love to,” Atsumu says with this stupidly ingenuine grin on his face.

“Die, and help me with my tie.”

“Send me pretty pictures,” Atsumu winks as he lets Kenjirou tie the tie around him first before putting it around his own neck. “What would you do if I weren’t here?”

“Get ready in my house and tie it around my cat first,” Kenjirou says, and he tries not to sound too salty.

“I can’t believe you forgot to get a date.”

“It wasn’t the most important thing on my mind, okay?”

Atsumu straightens Kenjirou’s tie and helps him with his jacket. “Alrighty, my friend, I think you’re ready for prom.”

“Whatever. I'm still not over you deciding to stay home.” Kenjirou frowns, but Atsumu only pokes his cheeks and laughs.

“Kenjirou, do you know what time it is?”

“Six thirty-seven.”

“No, picture time! Go against the wall!”

Atsumu takes three pictures, one of Kenjirou scowling, one of Kenjirou looking ahead blankly and unamused, and one selfie in which Kenjirou is glaring at the camera and Atsumu is flashing a pearly grin.

“Go! Knock them dead with your two speeches!”

“It doesn’t have to be two,” Kenjirou growls, but Atsumu shakes his head, a smile still on his face.

“Tell them I send my regards, and give someone nice the crown on my behalf.”

“See you tomorrow,” Kenjirou huffs as the bedroom door opens. It’s Keiji.

It’s also Osamu.

He stares at Kenjirou for a beat. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You leaving now?”

“Yeah.”

Osamu pushes Keiji out of the doorway and holds it open for Kenjirou.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Osamu breathes out and shuts the door behind Kenjirou immediately. “I need a suit.”

“Well, lucky for you, I have six perfectly tailored,” Atsumu offers.

“This is the only time I’ve been grateful to share DNA with you,” Osamu lets slip out.

“It’s okay, I hate you, too.” Atsumu pulls his spiffiest suit out of his closet and hands it to Osamu. “Sometimes.”

“You’re okay sometimes, too.”

Atsumu gives a full-on smile. “I’ll take it.”

“Also, I need a prom ticket.”

“I knew you two were boning!” Atsumu says as he gets it from the drawer.

“It’s not like that!”

Keiji whispers to Atsumu, “it’s like that.”

 

 

 

 

 

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Kenjirou’s already thanked everybody for coming at the door. Well, he’s thanked everybody who came on time, anyway. He hugs some people that he doesn’t really know, including the self-designated prom queen, whom Atsumu was supposed to dance with after the announcement, but Kenjirou let the first student he saw in the audience have Atsumu’s crown (which didn't make her date very happy). He gave both his and Atsumu’s speeches shortly afterward.

Now, he stands by the punch and serves it to others. Between servings, he watches couples, friends, chaperones, and the DJ dance. He doesn’t join. He’s just a volunteer, anyway.

He looks on as Kenji places a hand on Chikara’s waist, the other he doesn’t seem to know what to do with, so Chikara guides his hands in place. Odd, Kenjirou always thought Kenji was the more assertive in the relationship. That doesn’t matter. Kenjirou is jealous. Or is this envy? What’s the difference? That doesn’t matter, either.

Kenjirou knows that he wants whatever it is that Chikara and Kenji have. Okay, Kenji might sleep with everyone, and Chikara might talk a lot of shit, but they don’t let anybody else talk shit about each other, and they don’t let anybody else have slow dances with each other. Kenjirou simply thinks it would be nice to have somebody to slow dance with only him.

“Hi,” the sound of Osamu’s voice pulls Kenjirou out of his excessive thought and deep stare.

“What happened to not going to prom?” Kenjirou asks just as Osamu tells him he’s _really_ dumb. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Kenjirou raises his eyebrows slightly.

“I couldn’t let you stand here alone serving spiked punch to louts, teenage _and_ up,” Osamu gazes over to the principal grinding on their history teacher.

“You wanna do it?” Kenjirou’s eyebrows furrow together.

“As much as you do. Wanna dance?”

“But it’s a slow song?”

“I know.”

Kenjirou’s hands are clammy, and his heart pounds. “I mean, I’ve never really… I don’t think I,” he begins, but he doesn’t have to finish because Chikara approaches from behind Osamu to request punch.

“You guys do know the bathroom is that way, right?” Chikara points to a door with ogre-green strings hanging from the top of the frame.

“We aren’t here for that,” Kenjirou and Osamu simultaneously insist. Chikara chuckles before he leaves.

Now, Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is playing, so Kenjirou says, “Do you still wanna dance?”

“I changed my mind over these past thirty-two seconds.”

“Shut up,” Kenjirou mumbles as he takes the hand Osamu holds out to him.

“Prom isn’t as bad as I thought,” Osamu says quietly as he twirls Kenjirou. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Only a couple of times,” Kenjirou shows a small, tight-lipped smile, “but prom sucks. Let’s leave after one more slow dance.”

“What about your speech?”

“Speech _es_. Already gave them.”

“Sorry I missed them.” Osamu gives Kenjirou another twirl; Kenjirou tries not to step on anyone’s feet, including his own.

“Oh, you should be. They were positively thrilling.”

Osamu has his grins here and there, but he has a smile, a real smile, whose showings are few and far between, and it’s wide, and it’s bright, and it makes Kenjirou feel like he’s going to die because he can hear his blood pumping through his veins.

Kenjirou doesn’t seem to realize it, or at least he says nothing about Osamu’s hands being unusually clammy when he took it, but Kenjirou makes Osamu nervous, and he makes him feel like he’s going to melt like an ice pop in the summer, and well, “I really like you,” Osamu says quickly because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say it otherwise without running away immediately afterward.

“You know that goes without saying, right?”

Osamu nods slowly. Kenjirou rolls his eyes, but he smiles and exhales in amusement.

Osamu would like to see him smile again.

 

 

 

 

 

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“I put in a request for ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ for them,” Chikara says as he and Kenji watch Osamu and Kenjirou.

“They look so good together, Chika.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“But Chika sounds so cute.”

Chikara shakes his head and continues dancing with Kenji, slowly. “Good job escalating their relationship, by the way.”

“And you thought Kenjirou wasn’t the jealous type,” Kenji teases.

“Well, I suppose I owe you dinner.”

“I love that you’re a man of your word, Chika. So admirable.”

Chikara wants to tell him to stop, but he kisses him instead, and he swears that out of the corner of his eye, he sees the subjects of his and his boyfriend’s bet exchanging a peck, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading mwah ly


End file.
